


The Innocent Investment

by mia6363



Series: Mayor Peter Hale [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adorable Kira Yukimura, Cunnilingus, Descriptions of implied torture, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Description, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Persuasion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 07:46:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia6363/pseuds/mia6363
Summary: Her mother insisted that not a day was to be wasted on the ordinary. The first one-hundred years would be exclusive toward education, rounding herself out with language studies, history, combat, calligraphy, agriculture, industry, metal-working—It went on and on, and it never included the everyday. It never included grocery shopping, sleepovers, prom, tax-returns, electric bills, or the DMV.





	The Innocent Investment

New York summers were sticky and loud. Insects roared, determined to reproduce before the winter. Flowers bloomed and spread pollen. Rivers roared from frequent bouts of rainstorms. For most, summers were full of whimsy, iced lemonade, and barbecues.

For Kira Yukimura, summers were full of fencing, poetry, pottery, language studies, music theory—

Summer was filled to the brim.

Every Wednesday, Kira spent thirty-three minutes driving the next town over and five minutes on parking. The remaining hour and forty-nine minutes were saved exclusively for Tryde’s Comic Collection.

Tryde’s Comic Collection was tucked in a strip mall forty-five minutes from the highway. It was squished between a Tractor Supply Shop and a Shop-Rite. Most people ignored it, and would hastily make their kids stop staring at the alluring colorful comics and figurines as they continued on their way.

“Kira,” Christopher Tryde grinned from behind the counter he had set up in the center of his small store. His hair was going salt-and-pepper grey at his temples, streaks of red were remnants of the young man he used to be. When he smiled at her from behind his bifocals he treated Kira like she was just anybody else. “I’ve got good news for you.” 

Unrestrained delight made Kira run to his desk, her hair falling from her loose bun.

“ _Everyday Empress_ updated?” Tryde’s answering grin was all she needed. She glanced around even though the comic wasn’t very popular. The handful of people in the store didn’t pay her much attention. “Could I,” she had to force her voice to lower from it’s excited state, her throat burning from the strain of repressing her urge to shriek with delight. “Could I have a look? Please?”

Tryde snorted. 

“You don’t always have to _ask_ , Kira.”

She followed him to the boxes of fresh deliveries. He cut plastic cords off the boxes and opened the first one, squinting and he licking his fingers before he delicately paged through the new issues.

“Ah, here we have it.” Wrapped in plastic, were five new issues. He slipped one of them out. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” Kira staggered backwards, the new pages clutched in her hands. “Thank you _so much_.” 

She checked her watch. She had an hour and twenty-seven minutes remaining.

Kira Yukimura would live for centuries. She was a kitsune, and with her age would come great power, wisdom, and enlightenment. Her mother insisted that not a day was to be wasted on the ordinary. The first one-hundred years would be exclusive toward education, rounding herself out with language studies, history, combat, calligraphy, agriculture, industry, metal-working—

It went on and on, and it never included the everyday. It never included grocery shopping, sleepovers, prom, tax-returns, electric bills, or the DMV. 

_Everyday Empress_ was a celebration about the everyday life of the everyday person. The protagonist was an empress who was tired of her duties and lavish settings, and would escape from her mystical world into reality. The illustration styles were plain in the magical world of royalty, all flat, two dimensional black lines with bored expressions. But once the Empress escaped to brief trysts with reality… suddenly colors painted the page, streaking from one mundane setting to another. 

Kira’s eyes followed each delicate stroke of pen on paper, of the wonderous coloring that went into depicting a plastic shopping bag captured in the wheels of a car. Her breath caught at the marvelous window into the ordinary, half-empty parking lots, waiting in line at the pharmacy, and people lingering in a laundromat.

Her mother said the ordinary had no place in Kira’s life, not when there were important lessons to learn.

“Oh,” a voice that was smooth like smoke over ice came from over her left shoulder. “That has to be one of my favorite graphic novels.” Kira turned. The man who stood beside her was dressed elegantly, not like any of the other regulars in Tryde’s Comic Collection. His hair was smoothed back in a chic way. His lips curled into a warm, syrupy smile. “The illustrator has such fresh eyes, they capture beauty where everyone else overlooks it.”

“Exactly!” Kira smiled, unable to stop even if she wanted. “It’s just… it’s my favorite too.”

The man had thin laugh-lines at the corner of his eyes, as though he just started breaking them in. When he took an earlier edition of _Everyday Empress_ off the shelf she noticed that his nails shone with sheer polish. When he breathed, it was deep and even, like he was counting the seconds for every inhale.

“Have you ever heard of her other collaborators?”

Kira shook her head and the man guided her around, navigating the alphabetized independent artists section with ease. He loaded up Kira’s arms with recommendation after recommendation, each story a small, concentrated dose of realties from everyday people. About all the things that Kira never knew. She swallowed as the man took a deep, steadying breath.

“You know, I think what I like best is how… it never paints our day-to-day life as a chore.” The man gestured to her, then to himself, as if they were similar, like she was just like everyone else. It felt _wonderful._ “Life should never be boring, especially in our day-to-day. It’s important to appreciate the little moments along the way.”

Yearning for _the everyday little moments_ made it hard to breathe, like the stranger had stolen her breath until she was forced to face what she really wanted. Her throat burned and it felt as though she had to swallow fire in order to speak.

“Thank you.” An irritating electronic alarm went off and Kira fumbled for her cell phone to silence it. The man helped hold the books as she stopped the alarm and she checked her watch. “Oh no… I-I need to go, but _thank you_.” She had no time to get a name, to do anything other than take the books out of his hands. She hurried to the center counter and hastily put the books down. “Mr. Tryde, could you hold these for me? Just until I can read them, I have to go—”

Kira dug out some crumpled twenties out of her wallet and pushed them into Tryde’s hands before she bolted. It took her forty-five seconds to run to her car, another twenty seconds to buckle her seatbelt, and a full two minutes before she’d pulled out of the parking lot and was on her way back toward her hometown.

Her three hours of free time were over and she was three and a half minutes late to her Latin lesson. Next came local agriculture, and the end of the day finished with a cooking lesson from her father.

Kira pushed through her front door, gently toeing off her shoes. She had two minutes to properly wash her hands free of dirt from the hours she’d spent in the greenhouses studying plants, and then would go right into ingredient preparation for—

The kitchen was dark and her mother’s raised voice threw off Kira’s always-ticking clock. She double-checked her watch and confirmed that she hadn’t forgotten when and where she was supposed to be.

She crept to the living room to see her father sitting with stiff shoulders while her mother paced, her eyes fiery, all because of a man who sat in the green antique chair that Kira had always, privately, favored. When she entered the room all eyes were on her, and Kira was shocked to see that the man was the _same_ _man_ from Tryde’s Comic Collection.

“Kira.” Her mother’s voice was deep and soft, like a viola being played in the dark. “Please excuse us—”

“Actually,” the man _interrupted_ her mother and Kira’s first thought was _please don’t tell them where you saw me this afternoon_. Her heart pounded and she carefully kept her hands slack while the man smiled at her mother, charming but insistent. “I’d be more comfortable if your daughter remained. This pertains to her the most, regardless of your advice, her life is hers to live.”

Her mother exchanged a look with her father. The man snuck in a _wink_ at Kira, swift and secretive. Her mother wrung her hands, hard enough to make her father gently cover them with his own.

“Noshiko,” her father’s voice filled the room serenely, like a hot cup of tea on a cold winter’s day. “Kira has a right to hear what he has to say.”

Kira’s heart thundered in her chest, sour sweat gathered on the back of her neck, and her mouth went dry as her mother met her gaze.

“Kira, this is Peter Hale, and he has a proposition for you.” 

Peter Hale, back then just a stranger, uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in his chair. His eyes glittered and flashed red playfully, like he was back in Tryde’s Comic Collection. When he spoke, it was an argument that Kira should be exposed to the everyday life, that without context of the human life on the day-to-day basis, she wouldn’t develop the astute wisdom needed to rule as a kitsune should.

His words were half-truths, Kira could taste it in how Peter’s eyes never left hers. He promised something more. He wanted to give her what she wanted. Kira’s lips twitched into a smile. Peter’s answering grin felt like a promise.

Beacon Hills was unlike any place Kira had been. Though, to be fair, Kira Yukimura hadn’t _been_ to many places. Travel was just another experience that was going to come _later_ . Later, later, always _later_ — until now.

It took Kira Yukimura two seconds to voice her agreement with Mr. Hale’s plan. It took four hours and thirty-seven minutes to pack up everything she needed for an undetermined time away from home. An additional twenty-five minutes for saying a proper goodbye to her mother and father, and the ride to the airport lasted two hours and forty-seven minutes. The flight to California, six hours and five minutes, with a two hour and twenty-two minute drive to Beacon Hills.

“Your mother is under the impression that I’ll be continuing your studies, but just in a more modern sense with a hands-on approach.” Kira had her bags slung over her shoulder, though Peter was holding her heaviest bag outside of his house. “I’m not a teacher. I’m the future mayor of Beacon Hills.” 

“Future mayor?” Kira raised her eyebrows. “How can you guarantee that?”

“I’m going to rig my first election. After that, the people will be invested in me and what I bring to Beacon Hills. I won’t have to forge another vote after that.”

“But you can’t,” Kira swallowed and fought down the urge to avert her eyes, “you can’t force someone to be invested.”

Peter smirked.

“No. But someone can certainly be persuaded. Investment just means _caring_ . I will deliver on every promise, I’ll improve the town so people will fall in love with it even _more_ , and… and eventually people will work just as hard to fight for Beacon Hills.” Peter’s lips twisted into a smile that he wouldn’t have dared shown in her mother’s presence. It was the kind of smile that was sharp and savage. “You wanted to see the world and I need an assistant.”

Kira thought of the comics and books she’d read, always having to start and finish away from home so her mother wouldn’t find them. She bit her lip, her heart pounding in her chest.

“You lied.”

“I lied to your mother. I’m not lying to you.”

Kira would live for centuries. Kira would see cities grow, leaders fall, and meteors fly. Civilizations, religions, monuments would rise and die within Kira’s lifetime. She would live on with knowledge and wisdom that would always grow, always be passed down.

But that was _later_ . Beacon Hills was _now_.

“Well,” Kira held out her hand. “Sounds like a win-win to me.”

Peter took her hand. His skin was warm, his grip firm as he solidified their new beginning.

::::

Time was different in Beacon Hills. Kira’s highly regimented schedule that was measured down to the second was suddenly gone. Lessons were replaced with office work, research on local charities and real estate opportunities, and, as Erica liked to put it with open disdain, “general hobnobbing.”

“There’s my favorite face. As always, you’re a sight for sore, _sore_ eyes.”

Erica snorted, her words were always clipped like icicles. Kira liked her, how she always threw her arm around Kira’s shoulders and brought her in close despite her voice being loud enough to fill the air between them.

Kira flushed. She envied Erica for a lot of reasons. Her confidence was easily worn, her voice had a hint of smoke that Kira found alluring, always teasing with a smile. Her leather jacket creaked as her arm wove around Kira’s waist, pulling her in close. Peter said physical touch was more than just a platonic expression of affection for werewolves. Touch was a _mark_ . It meant _mine_ . It meant _Pack_.

Erica frequently touched Boyd, Peter, and Kira.

Days were long but instead of feeling arduous, Kira was free. She matched Erica’s steps, her cheeks aching from smiling. Her bag was heavy with budgetary plans for the very first of the Hale rehabilitation centers and affordable housing. There were several different plans, ranging from legal purchases to… creatively obtained buildings that depended on varying circumstances.

“Boyd and I will be close.”

“I should be fine.”

Erica snorted.

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t… his voice is so _grating_ , you know? You’re lucky he didn’t teach you in highschool like me. He’s so _weird_.”

Erica parted from Kira with a squeeze on her shoulder. She went into the diner, smiling warmly at the waitresses as she made her way back to her and Boyd’s usual table. Kira took a deep breath, tightening her grip on her heavy bag. She waited two minutes before she walked in.

It had been just under a year and Kira’s heart still raced when she stepped into ordinary places like the local diner. The red and white tile floors with fake leather seats made Kira’s smile brighten, dizzy with the euphoric thought of _I’m like the Everyday Empress_.

“Hey, Kira,” a sweet older woman smiled at Kira from behind the counter. “Good to see you.”

Kira picked a booth by the window and set her bags down. She was early and took the time to set out her binders neatly in front of her, sipping on coffee until the little bell on the door rang and she heard the leather of Erica’s leather jacket creak from three booths down. She stood as Mr. Robert Finstock’s wild eyes surveyed the diner before locking on her.

“Good evening, Mr. Finstock. Thanks for taking time out of your day to—”

“Just Finstock, please. Sorry I’m fucking late, the DMV took _forever._ I thought I was decomposing.” 

His hand was warm and he shook hers with vigor.

“I _love_ the DMV.” Finstock dropped her hand like it was poison, his wild eyes widening even further. Kira smiled. “There’s so much time to just _watch_ everyone and everything, and it’s usually full of people from all walks of life.”

They sat down and the leather squeaked. Finstock shook his head.

“And here I was thinking that _Peter_ was the optimist.”

Kira shrugged.

“It’s a matter of perspective.”

Robert “Bobby” Finstock had gone to college for Finance and Economics and was the top of his class, and while he pursued a career in finance, it only lasted a few years before he moved to Beacon Hills to teach. He drank his coffee black, he preferred mint shampoos, and his absolute favorite treat was a cupcake from Marty’s on Spring Street. Kira knew this because Peter had thick binders on every citizen of Beacon Hills. He made copies for Kira and she would often read over them in her apartment, her fingers trailing down facts, life stories, and gift ideas.

Peter Hale wasn’t like the politicians that Kira was familiar with through newspapers and television. He only wanted the best around him, no matter how eccentric or their use of expletives. _If they’re not an idiot or a hunter, I’m happy to work with anyone._ Law, Peter reasoned, was set up as a guideline, but over the years it caused harm when all Peter wanted to do was move fast toward pushing Beacon Hills in a better direction.

Kira had only seen Finstock in passing, his meetings with Peter were always behind closed doors.

“You’re worried about gentrification.” It wasn’t a question. Finstock was four coffees in and Kira twisted her straw wrapper between her fingers. He pointed to the map of downtown, to the buildings that were already bought out. One was trying to make upscale condos. The other, a breakfast nook. “With these outside owners, it’s going to be hard to reverse it.”

“Mayor Hale has already spoken to the owners of the breakfast bistro, we have some ideas of how to coexist without pushing out the people already living there.”

“Yeah,” Finstock smacked his lips together, “but I bet those condo assholes don’t give a fuck.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way _exactly_ ,” Kira sipped her coffee, stretching her legs out so her heels rested on Finstock’s seat, “but you’re not wrong.” She watched his brow furrow on the building layout and she knew that Peter picked him for his intelligence, but also his exhaustion from the expectation of being let down. _Don’t worry,_ Kira had to stop herself from saying, _the time for disappointments are over_. “Mayor Hale likes to prepare for all possibilities. The condo developers might be… reluctant to negotiate, but who knows what the future will bring. All sorts of things could happen.” 

Finstock’s eyes darted up from the maps and Kira hoped that Erica wouldn’t notice how her heart _raced_ , how her cheeks prickled with heat. She thought of all her lessons waiting for her back home, about her mother’s training and meditation schedules. Her watch ticked on he wrist but her only thought was _how long will it take until I can make him smile again?_

His eyebrows quirked up.

“What, he really thinks entropy is going to step in?”

Kira shrugged, her eyes never leaving his. 

“Peter doesn’t discount plans going up in smoke in the last second.”

Finstock snorted and he squeezed her toes through her boots. The contact was strange, playful, and _electric_. How many days would Kira have to wait before he would talk to her again? How many visits would it take for him to talk to her before Peter?

“Well, all right. It will take a while, to plot out some options, for the inevitable condos or for… a slice of chaos to happen that will remove that concern.”

Four months later, the building the developers had been eyeing burned to the ground.

::::

Budgetary meetings, Kira learned, would _always_ run late, sometimes for days at a time. Her first rodeo lasted two full days and when she was done she had a tear in her stockings. She washed her face in the bathroom and rubbed her mascara that clung to her lashes. Her eyes stung and she was sure she looked like a nightmare… but Peter and Finstock were able to strap down a solid budget for the upcoming fiscal year.

Peter wanted expanded parks. Improved parks meant that the local covens would be able to mold and shape stronger wards to protect the town. Peter wanted to start a community garden. Locally grown ingredients would benefit the Druids. Peter wanted sensitivity and weapons training and follow ups for the police force. Knowledge and calm minds would help the police recognize suspicious strangers (hunters) that would occasionally try to ruffle Peter’s feathers.

Kira cleaned her face the best she could. Her skin was rubbed pink and she was sure her eyes were a nightmare of smeared makeup.

Still, when she walked back into Peter’s office, Finstock smiled wide at her like always.

“Hey,” his voice was cracked around the edges, roughened from no sleep and too much caffeine. He gestured to Peter’s empty office. “Our maverick mayor has headed home, _hopefully_ to sleep.”

Kira yawned, too tired to feel any echoes of annoyance or worry. 

“He was my ride.”

“I can drive you.” Finstock offered it easily, like he’d always done it. Kira watched him, how the color suddenly rose to his cheeks and how his eyes never lost their intensity despite his exhaustion. “Even if it’s out of the way, I don’t mind. What’s another few minutes together after two and a half days?”

Thinking back to New York, where her home was… it felt like a dream. Back to where time wasn’t measured in days, but in decades. Where the ordinary was not to be touched. But in Beacon Hills, Kira counted the days, sometimes even the _minutes_ and it was normal, accepted. She went to the grocery store, she went to the DMV, and she went to the pharmacy. She had a job where she would clock in and out and her work had to do with the present and future. 

It was intoxicatingly wonderful.

She had a lot of bags of work that she took home with her. Finstock helped her carry it to her door and she thought of the last two days… how they were full of frustrated, frantic math, deductions, and eventual victory. She thought of the way Finstock’s smile would light up when they made breakthroughs, when he realized that Peter wasn’t an ordinary politician who bloviated for the sake of appearances. When Peter wanted something, he got it. 

She wondered if, on a lesser level, Finstock felt the same way she did, back in New York as Peter sat in her favorite green chair with a smile full of promise on his face. She gently placed her bags on the floor of her apartment and when she turned she quickly grabbed onto Finstock’s arm so she didn’t topple over.

“Whoa,” his other hand flew out to grip her shoulder. “Kira, are you alright?” 

“Mhm.” She nodded. “Want to come in? For…”

She swallowed. Unsure of what to say next, if Finstock even _wanted_ to… stay in her company. She knew that the cliched offering was coffee, but that coffee wasn’t really _coffee_ . It was the unspoken offer of something _else_. Finstock cleared his throat.

“Coffee?” Kira nodded, unable to speak around her pounding heart. Luckily Finstock didn’t notice as he stepped inside. “Sure, thank you.”

Her apartment was a small one-bedroom. Her furniture was minimal but it was clean. Neither of them made a move to the kitchen. Finstock looked around, his eyes roaming and she wondered what he saw and how he saw it. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and Kira sat down on the arm of her couch.

“Very minimalist.” His footsteps were light on her floor. She tugged off her stockings, toeing them off and throwing them in the corner. When she glanced up she saw that he was holding a snowglobe, but his eyes were on her legs. His gaze quickly returned to her face. “So, you don’t have any books, paintings, posters, or a television, but you have a snowglobe?”

Kira laughed and flexed her toes, falling backwards onto the couch.

“It was the first thing I could buy when I got off the plane.” She drew her feet up, making room for Finstock when he sat down next to her. She held out her hands until he gave her the globe. It was silly, Peter had rolled his eyes with an _oh honestly_ when she’d bought it. It had flecks of iridescent glitter that would float around a single palm tree. She ran her fingers over the glass. “I wasn’t allowed to keep things at home. My mom said that personal possessions were a distraction. I used to hide books away at the library and… I’d pay a comic shop owner when I’d read the latest issues. But here,” she gestured to her apartment, but really she meant Beacon Hills. “I can have whatever I want.”

“So you grabbed the first thing you saw, huh?” Her legs were in his lap. Her exhaustion made her brave. Finstock was human, but physical contact was also a comfort to humans. It strengthened bonds in a similar way. His hands hovered momentarily before they gently gripped her ankle. “You should expand your collection. Maybe get a few books while you’re at it.”

His voice sounded odd, like the words were having difficulty pushing past his teeth. 

“I should.” Kira smiled, inching closer to hold the snowglobe out to him. “Erica always makes fun of me when she comes over, she says I live like a monk—” 

Dry, slightly chapped lips stole the rest of her words. It was a quick, soft contact, feather-light with a hum of nervous anticipation. Kira’s eyelashes fluttered and she returned the gesture, the soft press of lips, and thought _should my eyes be closed for this_? He drew back quickly, not far, but enough space that she could breathe comfortably. 

Her lips tingled with the memory of the kiss. His hands were warm against her legs, gripping her ankle as an anchor.

“Can we do that again?” 

Finstock snorted. 

“Yeah.”

He swallowed as Kira unfolded her legs so she could get closer to him. Her body screamed for sleep but she fought it. She wanted to know the seconds between gasped breaths, she wanted to taste the coffee they’d drank, and she wanted to know what his hands felt like against her cheek. She smiled, wide and loopy from fatigue. 

“How many more times?” 

Finstock’s answering smile was crooked and offbeat.

“As many times as you want.” 

“Great.”

She slid her knee on the outside of his, pulling herself to him so she could get the leverage she needed. She felt his chest move, his breath caught in his chest, and she watched his eyes _lock_ with hers. How many times had he looked at her like that and she’d dismissed it? How many times had they shared stares and never moved? Her breath puffed against his lips and he made the softest sound, tiny, and vulnerable. She wanted to know the seconds between the _next time_ he’d make that sound.

Their second kiss was firmer, more confident. It was a gentle affirmation of _I like this, I like you_ that was repeated until his mouth parted and her tongue slipped in. It was new sensations, a new understanding and Kira struggled to concentrate because it wasn’t just his lips moving against hers, his _tongue_ moving against hers, but the way his fingers trembled as they grasped at her hip. It was how his breath would catch when her fingers splayed out along his neck, her thumb brushing against his pulse. It was how when she drew back for breath, he immediately followed for more.

His nails dug into her thighs when her teeth gently bit his lower lip, pulling because the way his breath stammered was delightful. He pulled back, his lips red and his breathing harsh.

“Kira,” she kissed the corner of his mouth, then his neck, right above his racing pulse. “ _Kira_ , if I keep closing my eyes I’m going to pass out.”

She hummed and he jumped at how it buzzed against his neck.

“We can do this later, right?”

“Fuck yeah,” Finstock yawned and his jaw cracked. “I’ll make a dinner reservation. Do this,” another yawn, one that Kira caught, “do this right.” _Do this right_ sounded good. Kira tugged a blanket from the top of the couch. “Wait, Kira, I can drive—”

Another monstrous yawn swallowed the rest of his words. Kira snorted, her eyes already closed.

“You’d crash.”

He tugged the blankets higher and she felt him shift, kicking off his shoes. She noticed how nicely they fit together, his arm slung lazily around her as she rested her head on his chest. Right as sleep firmly dragged her under, she felt his lips press against her forehead.

“Dinner,” he insisted as Kira drifted to sleep, “Kira, I swear, dinner, we’ll get di—”

::::

The holiday season was full of stressful meetings rushing to get deals done before the break and parties. Lots and lots of parties.

Peter Hale would famously throw a large holiday party at City Hall where the entire town was invited. The first year there was a bouncy castle and barbeque. This year Kira had a DJ lined up, confetti cannons, and of course, three bouncy castles. It was always heartwarming to see the entire town come out, a little awed. Food and gifts were bestowed to everyone.

Before the big _Beacon Hills Holiday Party_ , there was a smaller gathering at Peter Hale’s house. 

“You’re crazy,” Kira heard Erica’s voice as she opened the door to Peter’s house. She quietly toed off her shoes and shivered as she drowned in _warmth_. “Pumpkin pie is king, Finstock, any other opinion is sacrilegious.”

A few years ago, holidays were spent on quiet reflection while Kira would sneak to catch television broadcasts about families who went to big dinners, to rushed sales at stores, and of party games shared among friends. A few years ago, Kira’s room was bare save for meditation texts and fencing equipment.

Her apartment had been furnished and filled, with small gifts and little stops along the way. Kira hadn’t meant to acquire so much, and yet her apartment was filled with books, baubles, and pictures. That night her hands were weighed with bags of gifts as well as a customary bottle of wine that she always brought when she went to someone’s house. Her socks were slick against the wood floor and she had time to brace herself before footsteps thundered toward her. Derek and Cora ran, Cora’s thin arms throwing themselves around her waist.

“Kira!” Cora’s cheeks were warm. Kira put her bags down and bent down to give Cora a full hug. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Cora.” She pulled back to weave her arm around Derek and she had to restrain herself from remarking on how _tall_ he was getting. “You too, Derek.”

He helped her take her bags into the living room where a glittering tree stretched up to the ceiling. Everyone turned and soon Kira was buried, Erica’s cheek against hers, Boyd’s grip gentle but tight, Finstock’s loud laughter wrapping around her shoulders like a blanket, and Peter’s eyes wrinkling at the sides as he said, “Merry Christmas, Kira.”

Her past holidays seemed so far away as Erica eagerly roped Kira into a debate about holiday foods. Finstock slipped his arms around her, his chin resting on her shoulder so that when he continued his debate with Erica, every breath would tickle Kira’s neck. Boyd showed Derek various knitting and crochet pattern stitches, and Peter sat on the floor with Cora by his side.

The food that Peter made was flavorful and his eyes twinkled in delight as they ate, everyone making happy noises. Gifts were given and it just felt _nice_ , to be so close to everyone in a private space. Erica threw her legs on Kira’s knees while she rested her head in Boyd’s lap. Cora was under Peter’s arm, and Derek was sleeping with his head on Finstock’s shoulder.

Kira still had a town party to finalize and had to think about park expansion. She had to go over the dossier Peter had prepared on some local groups of hunters that had moved a few counties over.

But at that moment, Kira didn’t have to think of any of it.

When she pulled her coat back on, getting ready to head to Finstock’s house, Peter pulled her aside.

“Kira,” his voice was hushed in a way he only used around people he trusted. It was a more vulnerable tone, where he didn’t have to layer his words in innuendo, wit, and poetry. “Thank you for staying on board here at Beacon Hills.”

“Of course,” Kira smiled. “I love it here.”

Peter’s smile brightened.

“I’m glad. Here,” he gave her a neatly wrapped box in silver paper. “Just a little something to show my gratitude.”

He kissed her cheek and zipped up her coat. She held his present in her lap as Finstock drove them to his house. Kira would swing by Peter’s to pick up her car the next morning before they’d go running together, but she wasn’t thinking about it now because the moment she stepped into Finstock’s house he kissed her.

It wasn’t as new as the first time, but the same thrill ran down Kira’s spine. She hurried to put the present down on a table so she could shed her coat, rushing to get undressed despite it being cold. Finstock chuckled, shivering as he kicked off his shoes.

“What’s the rush?” Finstock’s lips were slow and methodical against hers, then her neck, her shoulder… until Kira’s hands shook too hard to continue pulling at her shirt. “We’ve got all night.”

“Yeah but,” Kira went to his bedroom, navigating the route easily in the dark, “I want to be naked now.”

He laughed. She loved how he laughed, fully, even when she tugged her shirt and bra off in one tangled mess. She threw it to the side as he crawled onto the bed. Kira was used to having to measure times of leisure and pleasure. Before her move to Beacon Hills, she’d been able to masturbate to a satisfactory orgasm in one minute and fifty-four seconds. Everything had been about speed and efficiency so not a second was wasted.

It was different in Beacon Hills. It was different with Finstock.

His smile was contagious as he pressed against her skin, chasing away the chilled night air. Kira whined because if he kept kissing her, if he kept _teasing_ her, she’d never finish getting undressed.

“Come on,” she wiggled underneath him and giggled when her movement bumped his chin against her chest. “I need to get my skirt and stockings off.”

“We’ll get there.” His thumb skimmed over her nipple and Kira whined against his mouth. “I promise.”

Kira was used to working as fast and efficiently as she could. She had nurtured and groomed the perfect schedule in New York… and without her realizing it… she’d dismantled it completely in Beacon Hills. Peter never counted the seconds, he wanted efficiency but was rarely repetitive. Kira’s free time was hers and she never had to hide things she wanted.

Pleasure, she found out, also didn’t need to be timed and rushed.

Bobby’s hands were warm against her skin, petting and squeezing her thighs, raking his nails against the nylon. Pleasure was about shared sensation, giggling in bursts of shared breaths and smiling because sex was _fun_ . It was how Bobby would groan against her mouth when she lifted her thigh to press against his erection in teasing retaliation, it was shimmying down to slide the zipper of her skirt, and it was how he playfully batted her fingers away so that he would be the one to slowly, _always slowly_ pull her skirt down her legs.

“No one would ever guess,” Kira’s voice and legs trembled as Bobby rubbed circles into her thighs, his grin _wolfish_ , “that patience would be one of your virtues.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a patient man.” He gingerly rolled down her stockings, taking care not to tear them. His cheeks were flushed and his breath was hot when he bit her uncovered inner thigh. “It’s called savoring the experience. Because _fuck_ ,” he laved his tongue over his teeth marks, “you are an _experience_ , Kira.”

For every inch of stocking he rolled down, he followed the newly exposed skin with his tongue and teeth. Even though it wasn’t their first time doing this, Kira still felt exposed, prickles of lust, impatience, and modesty fighting for dominance. Counting the seconds was impossible because _finally_ the very last of of nylon was eased off.

“Bobby,” when she used his first name it would make him move faster. His throat clicked, his eyes were wide and bright in the dimmed lighting. “Bobby, _please_ —” She yanked her underwear down. “Hurry the fuck up.”

His answering series of giggles made Kira grin.

“God,” his breath was so hot, so _delighted_ against her skin. “I fucking love it when you swear.”

Before, Kira’s life had been about meeting deadlines, length of lessons and tests, and delegating time. Free time was precious. Free time was when it was especially crucial to maximize efficiency. Lost time used to be Kira’s worst nightmare.

Bobby draped his _annoyingly_ clothed body over her, shrugging out of his shirt as she fumbled with his belt. He kissed her, sloppy and with enough teeth to make Kira whine. Kira tried to slip her hands in his underwear but he withdrew, breathless as he gently gripped her wrists.

“Not yet.”

He kissed her again, stealing her breath before he dragged his lips, tongue, and teeth down her throat, marking her pale skin until there would certainly be bruises the next day. She arched her back and pressed her breasts against his chest. His breath caught when her nipples pressed against him, dragging against his chest until his hand snuck between them.

Kira never realized how little she thought about her body. She’d treated it as a vessel, a vehicle to get her to where she needed to be. She never really cared about what people found attractive, alluring, and how her body could be used in terms of seduction… or the fact that she could feel _very_ good with another person. Masturbation was about finishing a race.

She moaned, her hips stuttering up because his hands gently massaged her breasts, his tongue flicking her nipple with a quick swipe made her _throb_ between her thighs.

“ _Bobby_ ,” his name fell from her lips and his hands held her hips. He gripped her hard and she was so _wet_ she was sure he could feel it. “B-Bobby—”

Down, down, _down_ he went.

Her world was falling between bliss and torture from Bobby’s tongue, every swipe another gentle _push_ that made her breath catch and her fingers bury in his hair. Any worries were ruined by Bobby’s _mouth_. He always started with soft licks that were so different from the way his fingers dug into her thighs, keeping her legs spread open and enjoying how her muscles jumped under his grip. She rolled her hips to meet his mouth and gasped every time he licked over her clit. Her breath stuttered as she pushed back against the fingers that had slipped inside of her.

“I have you,” she heard him whisper _against her_. “I have you, Kira.”

Her fingers tightened in his hair and she let him guide her closer to the edge until she finally, finally fell.

Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, her entire body hypersensitive. Her world came back in bits and pieces, the feeling of Bobby’s sheets sticking to her back, the sound of his belt dropping to the floor, and the feeling of his thumb brushing away stray tears that had a habit of falling when she just felt _too good_. His mouth was still slick from her… and she kissed him, licking the taste of herself out of his mouth and smiling at how that made him groan.

Pleasure was indeed something that could be savored.

Later, much later, Kira stirred. Bobby had left the bed for water, but when he returned Peter’s present was tucked under his arm. Kira sat up and kissed Bobby because she wanted to, because she wanted to taste his smile, to feel his lips curl because of her.

“My neighbor texted me. Apparently there was another power surge.”

Kira refused to let herself blush as she cleared her throat.

“Weird, though nothing to call the city about.”

Bobby smiled, the power surge he didn’t notice while they were having sex already forgotten.

“Here,” he handed the silver package over, “I thought you might want to open this.”

He threw his arm around her bare shoulders, his warmth welcoming as Kira carefully picked at the taped corners, unfolding the silver wrapping to reveal—

Bobby hummed with curiosity, his stubble tickling her cheek when he leaned down for a closer look. Kira’s fingers trembled around the wrapping and her eyes stung, her heart swelling in her chest.

The entire _Everyday Empress_ collection sat in her lap, bound together with a beautiful bow. 

::::

Springtime brought renewed work, flowers, and parks and recreation legislation. Kira had new drafts of ward specs that she planned to go over with Lydia’s coven, dried herbs that Deaton had given her to boost her immune system, and Erica’s coded written log of watching over the Sheriff’s son during the Sheriff’s late shift.

“Poor kid,” Erica handed Kira the yellow legal pad. “I swear, every time it’s my turn to watch over the house he’s having issues with geometry. I hope he’s getting enough help at the school.”

Kira frowned, looking over her notes.

“Weird. With me, he has problems with pre-calc. Maybe math just isn’t his subject.”

Spring meant that Kira would take her lunch breaks outside. That day she’d taken a later lunch. She caught up on work with Erica in the park between the Rehabilitation Center and City Hall. Flower petals caught in her hair and Erica looped her arm in Kira’s, walking her back to City Hall once their break came to a close. They passed Peter sitting with the Sheriff on a park bench, sneaking in a kiss that made the tips of the Sheriff’s ears turn pink. Kira thought it was a good sign that Peter felt comfortable enough to pursue a relationship.

Erica scoffed as she opened the double doors and followed Kira inside. Kira remembered how she’d felt, a little uneven at the frown on Erica’s face as the doors to Peter’s office swung shut behind them. Kira saw that the mail had been dropped off and she grabbed her letter opener.

“You don’t like him?”

Erica shrugged which was the closest she’d come to admitting the sour taste the Sheriff left in her mouth ever since Peter’s holiday press conference that ended in a love confession.

“I just don’t see how he’s a good investment.”

The metal letter opener hummed in Kira’s hand. _Investment_ . The word echoed slammed into her ribs like a sledgehammer, her hands shaking and her breath stinging her lungs. _Isn’t he just a boyfriend_ , Kira wanted to say but the words clung to her teeth and she tasted copper on her tongue. Peter didn’t bother in frivolous things like _boyfriends_. She knew this. 

On the record, Peter was elected to office through the Democratic process because that was the American way. On paper, everyone on his staff was hired because they were the best in their field. But Kira… she hadn’t been the best at anything. The most she could say about herself, before moving to Beacon Hills, was that she could keep time and follow a schedule.

If Kira broke herself down to her base components… she did have one thing going for her.

Her lifespan.

Kira’s grip on the large, goldenrod envelope tightened. She slipped the metal under the corner and tore through. She desperately tried to keep calm but her mind wouldn’t stop, one string of thought connecting to another, burning until the threads of Kira’s naivete burned.

Peter existed in a democracy, but he ruled like a dictator, so seamless in his workings that no one suspected that their form of government had been changed. It was exactly as Peter had said, the people of Beacon Hills had become _invested_ in him and thus _invested_ in their own town. Dictators didn’t hold elections, they assigned their positions to be taken over.

Obvious nepotism, like Cora or Derek, would quickly pull the wool from the voters’ eyes. But a colleague… it would seem like a natural transition. And who would be better than someone who would live for centuries?

_“But you can’t… you can’t force someone to be invested.”_

Kira drowned in the memory of Peter’s words and she hated that, technically, he still hadn’t lied to her.

_“No. But someone can certainly be persuaded.”_

Peter had introduced Kira to all of her friends. He gave her the freedom to live the everyday life she craved. He conveniently found every excuse to leave her alone with the odd man she admired…

_Investment_.

“Kira?” Erica knocked on her desk. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Kira shook her head, swallowing bile. “I’m fine,” she checked the goldenrod envelope because there was no return address, which was odd. “Just lost my train of thought,” she turned the envelope over to let whatever was inside slide out, thick cardstock. “Really, I’m f—”

Glossy, color-developed photos fell out of the envelope and at first Kira’s eyes refused to comprehend the images. She saw splashes of color, of bare flesh against dark backgrounds, and severe shades of blue, purple, and red. Then all the components came together in a rush, clicking together into the irrefutable facts.

Photographs of Stiles Stilinski were on Kira’s desk. Photos of Stiles Stilinski with his arms tied above his head against a dirty concrete wall were on Kira’s desk. Photos of Stiles Stilinski bound and _beaten_ were on Kira’s desk. She heard Erica’s breath catch. The door opened. Kira had no idea who was there. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the _boy_ , God he wasn’t even _fifteen years old_ —

Her vision bled white and all the power in Beacon Hills went out with a thunderous _clap_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> WEH. I was able to put out something before the holidays... but really I just wanted to try and get better at sex/smut and I love Bobby/Kira so win-win. So... Sorry for the hopefully not that bad sex. I had a lot of fun exploring Kira and yes, I promise that the next installment in this series will be Stiles. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it, I hope it didn't seem rushed, and yeah. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, feel free to say hello on[ **my tumblr**](http://mia6363.tumblr.com/), I love getting asks!
> 
> EDIT: There are some weird space issues around italicized words. I'm really sorry if it's distracting... ao3 was giving me a lot of problems trying to post this and I had to manually go in and change a lot... and I couldn't catch them all I'm so sorry... I really hope that doesn't take away from the reading experience, it was so frustrating to try and get this posted in a reasonable amount of time. Sorry again guys!


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